Playing in Public

I find myself, once again, sitting in an airport. I got to Salt Lake with almost four hours before my next flight. This is an unfortunate but common occurrence and it’s always a struggle since I am easily bored. When traveling for pleasure, I always bring my "fun bag". It is filled with about 20 lbs worth of the stuff I live on - my iPad, journal, travel-sized art supplies, and other assorted knicks and knacks. My husband claims that it’s more like 40 lbs so when it comes to lugging it around it is anything but fun. But it gives me the opportunity not to go out of my mind while waiting for the next flight.

The city of Salt Lake has seen fit to bless its travelers with tables and chairs near windows. My husband and I grabbed one of them and I proceeded to play in my journal for the next two hours. Granted, there was a lot of stuff laid out on the table--paints, paper, magazines, stamps, etc. But as I worked, I noticed something that I hadn't really noticed before--maybe because when I have done this in the past, I would find a corner and plant myself on the floor. Today, I was in the hallway of the terminal. 

People were staring at me. They would walk by and look at what I was doing and then they would really look at me. Some would smile; some look confused. A few actually frowned. And I wondered why people would frown. I was having a great time and I wasn’t in anyone’s way. 

There’s not really anything profound to say about this. I was doing the adult equivalent of giving kids crayons and a menu they can draw on. It was fun. It passed the time.